


The Prisoner's Dilemma

by Ifrit



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Ace Attorney AU, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, lawyer AU, specifically Klapollo AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 21:13:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20570978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ifrit/pseuds/Ifrit
Summary: Nero, burgeoning defense attorney, is forced to put his own mentor behind bars for forging evidence and killing his suppliers to keep them quiet.  Nero's not the only one suffering, as Dante, star prosecutor and his mentor's twin brother, watched Nero help put him behind bars.  From that point on, the two of them become inextricably linked by their past.





	The Prisoner's Dilemma

**Author's Note:**

> This fic draws heavily on the established story of Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney. All you need to know for this fic is that Nero (Apollo's equivalent) has a bracelet that tightens whenever someone is lying and that he has freakishly good eyesight. Also, Dante is the lead singer of a world-famous rockband(?), though he still works his day job of being a prosecutor.
> 
> The rating will eventually change, but it's mostly clean for now.

Nero watched his mentor trudge out of the courtroom with his wrists shackled in front of him, back rigid, surrounded by as many guards as the judge could muster - as if Vergil would have broken out of his handcuffs and attacked everyone within a ten-foot radius if he weren’t outnumbered.

That wasn’t the man Nero knew. That wasn’t the man who taught him everything, who never failed to have Nero’s back in court.

That man was a stranger.

Looking up at the crowd of onlookers, Nero’s eyes met Dante’s for a split second, and he knew - Vergil’s twin brother was thinking the same exact thing.

That man wasn’t Vergil. That man was a stranger. That man was a murderer.

* * *

-Two months later-

* * *

Standing nervously at the doors leading to courtroom number four, Nero turned to face Kyrie, his new boss’s sister. She’d accompanied him to the courthouse in Credo’s place, the two of them worried Nero would either flee the courtroom or have a breakdown at the bench during his first case after the… incident.

It sure didn’t help that the prosecutor facing him would be the same one he’d faced two months ago. Dante… he must be hurting just as much, if not more than Nero.

That didn’t mean Nero would be going easy on him. The last thing the prosecutor needed was pity.

Kyrie took his hand in hers for reassurance, making sure their eyes met. “You’re going to do great. Both you and Dante have been on a break, so you’re not at any disadvantage.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Nero murmured, looking away. He could feel his heart race faster the moment his gaze landed on the imposing courtroom doors. “Let’s just go in.” 

It was a bit early, but Kyrie didn’t object as Nero led her beyond the doors without letting go of her hand. The gallery was trickling in, adding to Nero’s anxiety. He wished he didn’t have to defend his client in front of an audience. His job was life or death, not entertainment.

His brow must have started to furrow severely, because Kyrie’s grip tightened around his hand, grounding Nero. Though he let out a small sigh, he looked at Kyrie with a grateful expression. “I promise I’m okay, Kyrie.” The girl didn’t look convinced, but she just squeezed his hand once more and let go to let Nero get to work.

He was just finishing up lining up his evidence as he heard the courtroom doors open, and his gaze automatically locked on to the newcomer, an action Nero immediately regretted - because the newcomer was Dante, and Nero wasn’t prepared for the look he saw in those eyes.

A brief flash of pain crossed them before a veil of false warmth replaced that genuine display of emotion. Anyone less perceptive than Nero wouldn’t have noticed from that far away, and Nero cursed his hyper-perceptiveness - the observation only caused his heart to pump faster and sweat to bead at his hairline.

As Dante took his place at the bench across from Nero and Kyrie, he gave a small wave before sliding his hands cooly back into his pockets. 

Who was the wave for? Nero? The defense attorney bit back a nervous sneer, letting Kyrie return the nicety.

Nero couldn’t help but watch Dante as he prepared his own bench, noting the tense line of his shoulders creating stress lines in the material of his maroon blazer that he couldn’t hide despite his veneer of coolness. 

“See something you like, Spikes?” 

Maybe Nero had been staring for too long. His head snapped up to meet Dante’s half-lidded eyes, feeling a vein bulge in his temple at that infuriating smirk bringing up the corner of Dante’s lips. He wanted to punch that smug expression off his face.

Before Nero could come up with a witty retort, the  _ bang _ of the judge’s gavel on his podium signaled the beginning of the trial, while also making Nero jump out of his skin. Dante’s laugh at his reaction was absolutely not appreciated, but he felt some sort of peace when he realized that was the first time Dante had smiled genuinely since he entered the room.

“All rise!”

Taking a deep breath, Nero rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and placed his palms flat on the bench.

“The defense is ready, your honor.”

* * *

The trial lasted three days. Putting their past aside, Dante and Nero fought hard for a verdict, and somehow, some way, Nero had come out victorious.

He didn’t remember victory feeling so hollow.

Despite his personal feelings, Nero’s client at least looked relieved that he wouldn’t be getting the death penalty, shaking both of the defense attorney’s hands vigorously and offering to buy him and Kyrie dinner. 

Though he hadn’t eaten since the night before, Nero wasn’t hungry. He politely declined the invitation, put on a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and waved as he watched the taxi he paid for drive off with his client.

“Are you alright, Nero?” Came Kyrie’s soft voice behind him.

He felt something settle in his chest when he heard her voice, but his anxieties still circled in his head.

“Yeah. Thanks to you.” She’d really come through during the trial, reminding Nero of critical pieces of evidence he had and keeping his spirits up. Without her, he’d be even more of a shell than he already felt. “I’m just tired. Trials that go the full three days always drain me, you know?”

It was more than that, though, and Kyrie knew it. “You should go home and rest, then. I’ll summarize the trial for Credo. Don’t worry about the paperwork for now.”

Nero was so happy he could cry. He  _ was  _ dreading the paperwork he’d inevitably have to do for Credo’s documentation.

The office and his home were in opposite directions, so Nero hugged Kyrie tightly, murmuring his thanks, before hailing a taxi for the girl. 

He was in the middle of unlocking his bike when a shadow fell over his crouched figure. Nero looked up, barely able to see who it was with how brightly the sun shone behind him.

“Nero.”

Dante.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your win. It was a good fight, all things considered.”

The bracelet on his left wrist tightened uncomfortably. 

“Would you… want to get dinner with me?”

Nero’s hands froze around the bike lock, and a million thoughts raced through his mind at once. What possible reason could Dante have to want to get dinner alone with him? Did he hold a grudge from two months ago? Nero  _ was _ the lawyer who put his twin brother away, after all, and Nero wouldn’t blame him if he…

“I just wanted some conversation. Going home alone after the trial seems so depressing, don’t you think?”

There was no reaction from his bracelet, and as Nero got to his feet, his eyes adjusted and he could see an earnest, though slightly embarrassed, expression on Dante’s face.

Wiping the sweat from his face, Nero steeled himself to respond. “To be honest, I don’t know why you’d bother talking to me outside of work.” Suspicious of Dante’s motives, Nero was set to bait Dante into answering his questions, no matter how skittish it made him seem.

“You’re a friendly face. I don’t see many of them around the courthouse, these days.”

That was a lie, making Nero even more suspicious. “...Maybe next time. I’ve got paperwork to do.” A little white lie in return wouldn’t hurt anyone, as long as Dante didn’t know he was being lied to.

“Oh. Alright, next time.” Disappointment. But why? Every part of his body was set on edge, and Nero just wanted to leave, to go home and collapse onto his shitty box spring mattress.

Thankfully, Dante left shortly after being rejected, and Nero hurriedly pulled his bike away from the racks. He tried not to think too hard about the interaction, but the image of Dante’s frown just wouldn’t go away. Guilt, fear, and anxiety balled up inside his chest, making it feel harder to breathe as his legs pumped away at the pedals.

Hopefully one rejection was enough. He didn’t want to deal with Dante again. His face only dug up bad memories, memories that plagued Nero worst during his nightmares.

* * *

The next few weeks were pure hell. 

Dante wasn’t discouraged by the initial rejection at all - instead, he only tried harder to spend time with Nero, flagging him down even when they didn’t have trial together.

Though, those moments were fleeting, since it seemed that even the justice system was conspiring against Nero. Three cases out of four, he was set to defend a client against Dante. During trial, Dante was nothing but professional (if playing air guitar in court counted as professionalism), but afterwards? Nero couldn’t gather his things fast enough to avoid the inevitable invitation.

Most times, Kyrie smoothly rejected Dante for him, saying Credo needed him back at the office for another trial briefing, whether that was true or not. When Kyrie wasn’t there with him, Nero found it harder and harder to say no, Dante’s frown slowly turning into puppy eyes - at least, that was how it looked to Nero.

They’d just finished up another case when Nero felt an arm on his shoulder. Startled, he drew away, only to stand face-to-face with his most prominent stressor.

“Spikes - Nero. Are you still busy after this?”

Dante’s little pout tugged on Nero’s heartstrings, just a tiny bit - but he wouldn’t be swayed. “Yeah, sorry.”

“I thought as much. You know, it’s almost 110 degrees outside, and I rode here in my car. Would you want a ride back to your office?”

An offer that was impossible to resist. Nero should have seen it coming. He wanted desperately to say no, but with the sweltering heat outside, biking home meant enduring the heat in his suit. 

Would it really hurt to say yes? It was only a fifteen minute drive to the office, and they’d finished up an hour before the evening rush.

Oh, what the hell.

“Sure.” Nero didn’t like the flip his heart did in his chest when Dante all but lit up, immediately busying himself with helping Nero pack his things. 

It was only on their way down the courthouse steps that Nero realized the fatal mistake he’d just made. Sure, the drive was only fifteen minutes, but they’d be locked in a confined space together, and if Nero didn’t want the silence to suffocate the both of them, they’d need to make conversation.

Goddammit. His bike was already in the trunk of Dante’s gaudy red Camaro.

“What’s wrong, Spikes?” Dante called from the driver’s seat. “If we don’t leave soon, we’ll hit traffic.”

Shit. Shitshitshit. Nero quickly glanced at the locked trunk, then at the open passenger door. With no choice left, Nero gingerly slid inside, as if touching any part of the car unnecessarily would burn him.

If Dante noticed anything off, he didn’t say it. He looked happy from what Nero could see, humming a tune under his breath as he started the engine.

Nero stayed quiet as they pulled out of the garage, hands tightly wrapped around the seatbelt. He wanted desperately to turn on the radio, but asking would imply he didn’t want to talk, disappointing Dante yet again.

He wasn’t sure why that mattered so much.

Dante was a good driver, though fairly reckless, cutting people off without a care in the world. Nero wanted to laugh at the angry gestures directed at the prosecutor, but was too tightly wound up to make a sound.

Nero’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach when Dante took the exit to the freeway. Traffic was so bad that cars were lined up the ramp, moving at a bumper-to-bumper crawl.

“Crap. I didn’t think to check traffic on the way out,” Dante sighed, throwing his head back onto his headrest.

“We live in LA, it’s just as much my fault as yours.” Nero didn’t think to check traffic because he wasn’t planning on going to the office in the first place. He should have known this shit would happen to him.

The lack of movement made their silence even more unbearable, and for some reason, Dante refused to turn on the car radio.

A few more minutes of silence passed. Then, suddenly:

“I’m sorry.”

Surprised, Nero turned to look at Dante, who was resolutely staring down the license plate of the car in front of them.

“You’re… sorry? For what?”

“For everything. For not knowing what Vergil was doing. For playing so perfectly into his plans.”

Is this why Dante wanted to talk so badly? Blindsided, Nero couldn’t think of anything to say in return.

“He was my twin brother. I should have been the one to stop him, but instead I let him get away with everything-”

“Stop.”

Dante’s surprised expression matched Nero’s thoughts - he hadn’t planned on saying anything, but he’d just suddenly blurted that out. Desperately, he scrambled for something to follow up with.

“Y-you don’t need to apologize. You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Would you blame me for not figuring out what Vergil was doing? I was his associate. If anything, I should have seen him forge the evidence he used. Hell, I probably used some of that evidence myself.”

There it was. The reason for Nero’s sleepless nights. Putting it into words made everything so clear, and Nero began to shake, uncertain of what to do with this revelation.

“No, of course I wouldn’t-”

“Then why do you blame yourself?” Still shaking, Nero tried to relax against the seat, having risen out of it in… anger? Frustration? Whatever it was, it had his muscles tied up in knots, pushing his heart rate up and up and up…

Unable to meet Dante’s eyes, he glanced at the stick where Dante’s hand rested. It was tense, so tense that Nero was afraid the prosecutor would rip it clean off.

“If anyone needs to apologize, it’s me. I kept turning your offers down because I thought you blamed  _ me  _ for what happened.”

“How could I? Without you, he wouldn't have been arrested.”

“Exactly. I - I thought you resented me because of that. Wasn’t he your only family?”

“Yeah, but… we hadn’t been close, not for a long time. I was glad when he was detained, you know? He’s not the Vergil I knew. The city’s safer with him behind bars.”

The weight that lifted off of Nero’s shoulders was immense, and for some reason, Nero let out a bark of laughter, though he immediately covered his mouth as soon as he realized he’d made the noise. “Shit, I’m sorry. I just… I really thought you hated me.”

“I thought  _ you  _ hated  _ me _ ,” Dante retorted, though thankfully, he began laughing softly. “I haven’t been rejected this many times since before I hit puberty.”

“When you phrase it like that, you make it sound like you were asking me out on dates.”

Fuck. Why did Nero have to open his mouth, ever? 

“...And disappoint all the ladies wanting a piece of this?”

Not noticing Dante’s lengthy pause before his answer, Nero froze - of course Dante, heartthrob prosecutor, had women lining up to be with him. Nero’s gay ass wouldn’t have a chance in hell, just like he never had a chance with…

No, he shouldn’t think about it. “Don’t be so full of yourself, asshole,” Nero scoffed, leaning back and closing his eyes.

They lapsed back into silence, and thought it was a comfortable silence, Nero was too keyed up to really relax. Traffic cleared up after a few minutes, and they made it to the office with no problem.

After parking the car, Dante rounded the front as if to open the door for Nero - but Nero’d be damned if he let Dante treat him like one of his  _ ladies _ . Stepping out on his own, he hung his briefcase over his shoulder, trying his hardest to smile at Dante. “Thanks for the ride.”

Dante returned the smile, hands in his pockets until he used one of his fingers to poke the space between Nero’s eyebrows.

Nero froze for what felt like the millionth time, so caught off guard by Dante’s touch that he almost let his files fall to the ground. 

“You’ve always got your brow furrowed like this whenever I see you. Loosen up a little, yeah? I’ll see you later.”

Frozen in place long after Dante had pulled away from the curb, Nero put his hand over the place Dante had touched, belatedly answering to no one at all.

“...Yeah, see you… later.”

Fuck. He was so fucked. Of course he had to fall for yet  _ another  _ straight asshole who had done nothing more than be nice to him.

Although, Nero knew that description wasn’t accurate. If anyone understood him, it was Dante. He felt guilty for the same reasons, had felt the same betrayal when Vergil was caught red-handed. However, Nero was sure he’d never be able to understand Dante, what with his celebrity status as the hottest prosecutor on the west coast.

To top it all off, Dante would probably stop talking to him altogether now that he’d been able to get that weight off his chest. What other reason would he have to spend time with him? Nero was a defense attorney, cheap (as evidenced by the bike he rode to the courthouse) and had no time for anything other than work. Dante had time for hobbies alongside with work, being overwhelmingly successful in both endeavors - a single from his latest album was playing on the radio, for god’s sake. And he was rich. Did he mention that? Nero wasn’t sure the Camaro was indication enough that he was out of Nero’s league.

Downtrodden, Nero let his briefcase fall to his side, feeling like it weighed five times more than usual as he plodded up the staircase to Credo’s office. 

It wasn’t until Nero was sitting at his desk that he realized he’d left his bike in Dante’s trunk. 

“Are you alright, Nero?” Kyrie set the files Nero had asked for in front of him, leaning with a worried expression onto his desk.

“It’s nothing. I’m just a fucking mess,” he groaned, pressing his face into his hands.

“Does it have anything to do with the prosecutor?” Kyrie said, voice filled with laughter.

“Not funny,” Nero grumbled, though he didn’t push the hand Kyrie put on his head away as she returned to her own desk. 

He could still feel Dante’s touch lingering on his skin, and when he was sure no one was looking, he brushed his fingers over that spot one more time.


End file.
